Where Ya At Songtext
von D.I.T.C.

Ayo, it′s finally done, the two nicest niggas unite as one
Collide the sun with the moon BOOM!
I leave you blinded from my full of clips
Hawk the world into hell when a bullet spit
Crucifix myself to the sun, now who you with?
Enter my world of doom, consume fear and feel the panic
I ram a lightning bolt between the earth and the moon and curl the planets
I'm pan-Atlantic with lyrics spannin′ for galaxies
Battle me, mathematically, I'm givin' your wisdom a cavity
Rapidly flowin′, controllin′ the time
Flip over the line, I'm blowin′ your mind with just a flow and a rhyme I'm Hogan in his prime, strong and fast
You can bomb and blast, c′mon, you'll still be on your ass
It′s satisfaction guaranteed, with Fiction like Quentin Tarantin'
Kickin' your baddest dreams, shit you haven′t seen
I have to be perfectly honest
We should have an anniversary to acknowledge the way I work the ebonics
I verbally vomit on novice niggas that try to get us with garbage lyrics
My style delivers outside the Outer Limits
I′m like the pyramids 'cause every point is precise
Now you know me for life, Six Pun, Cuban flooded wit′ ice

If I ain't home wit′ my fam (Where you at?)
Stash crib, cuttin' grams (Where you at?)
I′m wit' my niggas and we're rollin′ and controllin′, hold that!
If I ain't deep in some ass (Where you at?)
I′m in the jeep wit' the stash (Where you at?)
I′m wit' my niggas and we′re rollin' and controllin', baby!


Yo, I camel-clutch mics, a truce gahzuntite
Guess I′m allergic when shit ain′t done right
You spread disease while the vaccine is what I write
Couldn't avoid this, sit tight
All aboard ship, on my voy-age
Purple Explorers, seven warriors my aura
You tied a [?] and boredom, Milan bring more than offer
High exalted, boned a Lazarus sculpture
You penny-weight style
While my piece alone around three pounds
I had to serve nerds, and throw it down, stuck for a reason
Laid up a whole season, pen and pad style
Honeymooners like Jack Gleason
Blessin′ the whole reason
Until my niggas maxed out, hold the axe out
Whoever front, saw the procedure
All you thugs now wit misdemeanors
I seen y'all in clubs, poppin′ Zima
Fake minks wit' ninety-percent of it beaver
Thought y′all was killin' 'em?
I play the back wit′ two dime Brazilians
Cogniac and ice buckets, puttin′ a slight chill to them
Rock platinum like I sold a million
Trapped on my island like Gilligan
Really, Manhattan niggas here, you gotta feel 'em
It ain′t hard, sent to Parkwest Hall
Straight up the Malcom Boulevard
Wit' no bars, I write scriptures
Me on beats is a fatal attraction when I give you the business
Caught a throat virus for spittin′ sick shit
Got niggas wildin; like "Who is this?"
On this '99 classical edition

If I ain′t home wit' my fam (Where you at?)
Stash crib, cuttin' grams (Where you at?)
I′m wit′ my niggas and we're rollin′ and controllin', hold that!
If I ain′t deep in some ass (Where you at?)
I'm in the jeep wit′ the stash (Where you at?)
I'm wit' my niggas and we′re rollin′ and controllin', baby!